


Spikes and Snakes

by hey_malarkey



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Age Difference, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BUT it gets averted, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pre-Relationship, attempted drugging of a drink, biker gang jimmy, biker gang with morals, non graphically, nothing happens but it is talked about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_malarkey/pseuds/hey_malarkey
Summary: Drifter Stan is out casing a bar when he meets a new man and has a few interesting conversations.





	Spikes and Snakes

**Author's Note:**

> if you want you can consider this a prequel to my "5+1 Jimmy" fic. I do, haha. This is partially what they referenced in the +1 scene.

“Hey, what’s a kid like you doing in a place like this?”

Stan felt a twinge of annoyance and turned to see who called him a  _kid_.

A tall man with long reddish blond hair and a matching Fu Manchu in biker gear was leaning on the bar beside him, resting on his elbow.

“I ain’t a kid, bucko. Move on.”

The man leaned further in.

“Sorry, kiddo. I just don’t believe you. How old are you?”

Stan tightened his grip around his beer.

“How old are  _you_? Get lost, creep.”

The man laughed. “I’m a creep, huh? What else can you tell just by lookin’, stud?”

The man had a half-smile on his face. It felt like he was mocking Stan but also interested in hearing his answer. Stan pushed himself back on his stool, turning his body to face the man, glancing around the place as he did so.

“Well, it seems like you and your buddies are already solid with your matching friendship jackets and aren’t looking for one “kid” to join the club.”

“Hmm, close. But mine don’t match the rest, kid. Mine’s got spikes.”

Stan glanced back at the bikers playing pool.   _Shit,_ he thought.  _I didn’t offend some gang leader here did I? I barely had any time to make money in this city._

“And that ain’t the only thing in this club that’s spiked,” the man said, leaning in close to Stan’s face. His breath smelled like the bar’s special on chicken wings and alcohol. Strangely fruity alcohol.

“..Yeah?” Stan says, a bit dumb with his face being so close to the other man’s  ~~lips~~ face.

“So’s your drink.” And quick as a flash his hand whipped out and stole Stan’s beer from him.

“Hey–!” he started to shout but the other spoke over him.

“Billy, bring my friend here what I’m having, and throw this shit away.”

The bartender nodded, dishing up a couple new drinks—bright orange drinks, apparently. The man beside him set down a few bills and the bartender scooped them up with a smile.

“Call me if ya need anything, Jimmy,” and wandered down to serve a group of ladies who’d just walked in.

Stan didn’t make a move for his drink, even as Jimmy took a sip.

“C’mon kid, take a drink. If you’re not paying, you’re not complaining, right?”

Stan tensed up more at these words. He’d heard shit like that before.

“What’s the catch,  _Jimmy_?” he said, twisting the name like an insult, unsure of how to play the situation but to try and go on the offense.

Jimmy sighed and sat down fully, bringing one hand up to point over Stan’s shoulder.

“The  _catch_  is that two tables back a thug named Marcus was gonna spike your drink, rape and rob and beat ya.”

Stan glanced over his shoulder.

A sour-faced man with good hair and steely brown eyes was staring daggers at Jimmy. Jimmy took a sip and continued.

“He does it to all the lonely kids that turn up. He’s got a type. I met a real kid he’d gotten to in the back alley when I went to take a piss, once.” Jimmy shuddered and took a long drink. “Nasty piece of work.” He stared at the wall for a moment. “Was gonna rustle up the gang and settle with him tonight, if he didn’t take our warning serious last time we saw ‘im.”

Jimmy looked Stan up and down, then finally straight in the eye.

“Looks like he didn’t. Perfect kid like you turning up? Too good for that shitsack to pass up. Take a drink, kid.”

Stan was holding his drink in one hand, the other a fist clenched against his thigh.

“I-I coulda taken care of myself, Jimmy.”

Jimmy eyed him for a moment before snorting softly.

“I bet you could, kitten.  _Sober_. Bet you could do some damage  _not_  sober. But he’d’a taken you out of commission, stud. No offense.”

Stan took a longer look around the bar. He noticed a lot more of Jimmy’s friends, all of them “casually” blocking what would presumably be Marcus’ escape routes. They kept laughing and drinking and smoking, but they did it in the most menacing way. Pulling tables together to block his route while they played cards and ate wings. The four playing pool dropped a pitcher in the empty patch of space where anyone could slip by, causing a localized commotion, too thick to get through easily. Stan spotted a couple of the ladies who’d come in late wearing similar leather jackets, watching Marcus’ table but flirting with men around the bar, bending low and sticking their feet out behind them to trip anyone running by.

_Holy shit, this guy is serious_.

Stan took a drink. He almost did a double take, because it was  _delicious_.

He took a longer pull, then one more. His lips were a little sticky but he didn’t care.

“Good, huh? That fruity shit goes straight to the head. I love it.”

“What is it?” Stan asked. He could list all the beers most bars had—because they were cheap. Mixed drinks may get him there faster, but ate too much of his low supply of cash.

Half the reason he came out tonight was to try and hustle pool, or darts, or some sucker in a drinking contest, or get a read on possible clients, if he absolutely had to.  _Marcus_  had made his precursory list, earlier.

Stan shuddered and gripped his drink tighter. Marcus was smaller than him, but he knew first hand that little guys packed a hell of a punch.

“Sex on the Beach.”

“What?” Stan jerked his head up, thrown out of his own head at Jimmy’s comment.

“The drink. It’s called Sex on the Beach.”

Jimmy took a drink and set it down in front of Stan, half-finished.

“Sounds too gritty on the ass to try, but whatever floats your boat, right?”

“Well we can’t all fuck our motorcycles,” Stan said in reflexive banter, tensing slightly when he realized he didn’t know how this guy would react to an actual shot back at him.

Jimmy laughed, loud and snorting and ridiculously dorky. “Got some real spirit, kitten. Glad I saw you tonight.”

Stan grinned back. He relaxed his shoulders and took another drink.

“Billy, grab us a water,” he called. Billy waved back and kept chatting with one of the leather jacket ladies.

“Guess I’m glad you saw me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love me some dam good jimstan. Hope you enjoyed! (Also Stan is like either very early 20s or 19 in this. The very young, very early part of his drifter days)
> 
> I headcanon Jimmy as loving fruity drinks and reveling in the incongruity of his appearance to what he orders and daring toxic dudebros to try and fight him on it. 
> 
> Comments/Kudos appreciated!


End file.
